Stories of Desert Wisdom

Understanding true humanity

In Christian metaphor, the desert stands for a time of being tested – passing through ‘an aridity of spirit’, from which one can emerge renewed more strongly in one’s faith.

The desert also was literally and historically a place from which some of the most powerful spiritual teachings flowed. Moving away from religious practice that had become more and more formalized and restrictive, even as it got more popular, hundreds of Christians in the fourth century sought closeness to God in complete solitude or in small groups, deep in the deserts of Egypt, Syria and Asia Minor.

Though they lived in seclusion, they were open to visits from seekers who asked: “Speak to me a word, father, mother, that I may live…”

The life-giving words of these men and women, known with fondness and respect as “Abbas” and “Ammas”, were collected by their disciples. Mixed with these sayings are short stories about their lives; what they did was as revealing and enlightening as what they said.

The true beauty of the stories is that while they teach about intense intention, focus and discipline, they also highlight the discernment and wisdom that knows exactly when to discard these very rules and directions, and live out of a possibly contradictory perspective – but one of true ‘humanness’, which is really divine.

Once, an old monk who lived in a cave with his disciple became annoyed with the young man and drove him out. When the old man finally went to the entrance and saw the young man still patiently waiting there, he bowed before him, saying: “Come inside. Your humility and patience have overcome my narrow-mindedness. From now on, you are the father, I am the disciple; your good works have surpassed my old age.”

Silence was valued highly. Once, Theophilus, bishop of Alexandria, journeyed to Scetis and the brethren coming together said to Abba Pambo, "Say a word or two to the bishop, that his soul may be edified in this place." The old man replied, "If he is not edified by my silence, there is no hope that he will be edified by my words."

They placed hospitality and care of people so high that they were willing to open themselves to criticism and misunderstanding about this. Once, a group from Palestine travelled to Egypt and went to see one of the fathers. He offered them hospitality, and seeing him eat they asked, "Why do you not keep the fast when visitors come to see you? In Palestine the monks always keep it." He replied, "Fasting is always with me but I cannot always have you here.… What God commands is perfect love. I receive Christ in you and so must do everything possible to serve you with love. When I have sent you on your way, I can continue my rule of fasting.”

Humility, and refusing to judge others was taught through being lived: Once, a story goes, a brother in Scetis committed a fault. A council was called, to which the old and respected Abba Moses refused to go. A priest sent someone to him, saying, "Come, everyone is waiting for you". So he got up to join them, but carried on his shoulder a leaking jug filled with water. The others came out to meet him and seeing the dripping jug said, "What is this, father?" The old man said to them, "My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, and today I am coming to judge the errors of another." Hearing this, they said no more to the brother, and forgave him.

And even though discipline was strictly adhered to, humanness always had to prevail, as one of my favorite stories teaches: Once, some monks came to see Abba Poemen and said to him, "When we see brothers dozing in the church, must we rouse them, so that they can be watchful?" He softly answered, "For my part, when I see a brother dozing, I put his head on my knees and let him rest."

May Story guide us to our true humanity.
Marguerite Theophil

Each story is a ritual, a healing event
weaving together wisdom and action, the finite and infinite,
the world of beyond and worlds in between.
The story, like a dream, is a vessel that codifies

and transmits precious information,
the innermost secrets of the heart.
~ Susan Yael Mesinai

The world as a mirror

Traditional cultures the world over taught Life Lessons through Story. A Persian story about the ‘wise-fool’, Mullah Nasruddin - and a similar version, set in Greece, with Socrates as the Teacher - goes this way:

Nasruddin used to sit beside the gates leading in and out of the city, observing the flow of people. Once, a stranger came up to him and said, “I am thinking of moving to this city; could you tell me what kind of people live here?”
The Mullah asked him, “What kind of people live in the city that you come from?”
“Oh, they are terrible!” he answered. “They lie, cheat and steal. That is why I want to get out of there.”
Nasruddin exclaimed, “Why, that’s exactly how the people are here! You’d better not move here; go on, keep searching.”
Some days later, another person came to him to ask, “Sir, I would like to see and learn more about other parts of the country, and maybe move, but first could you tell me what kind of people live here?”
Nasruddin asked this man too about the people back home. “Oh, they are good people, kind and courteous, and usually help each other.”
The Teacher responded: “It is the same here. Go into to the city and explore it, you will find it is just as you imagine it should be.”

All spiritual Traditions want to awaken us to what the laws of Karma or Retribution, or the Golden Rule teach us in different ways: we create our own reality. We do this first through our perceptions, thoughts and intentions, then our decisions and actions – and the consequences of these.

As Parker Palmer, a thought-provoking writer and educationist points out, all Traditional cultures ask two related questions that help keep us awake to our own roles in this ‘creation’:
~ What are we sending from within ourselves out into the world, and what impact is it having ‘out there’?
~ What is the world sending back at us, and what impact is it having ‘in here’?

Traditional cultures used story, rather than sermons to illustrate this important learning through memorable and beautiful Teaching Stories, such as this one from India:

Lord Krishna summoned King Duryodana, renowned for his power and might. While his subjects lived in plenty, they lived in great fear of his displeasure and punishment too.
Lord Krishna told him: "I want you to travel the world over and find and bring back to me one truly good man." Answering "Yes, Lord," he immediately set out on his search.
He traveled far, meeting and talking to many people, finding out about their lives, values and actions, and after a long time, returned to Krishna saying, "Lord, I have diligently searched the world over for one truly good man. At heart they are mostly selfish and wicked. Sadly, nowhere could I find this truly good man you seek!"
Lord Krishna then sent for another king, Dhammaraja, well known for his wisdom and benevolence, and much loved by all his people.
Krishna said to him, “Dhammaraja, I want you to travel the world over to find and bring to me one truly evil man." Dhammaraja also set out at once, and on his travels far and wide, he too met with and spoke to many thousands of people.
After much time had passed, he returned to Krishna. "Lord, I have failed you. I found people who are misguided, who perceive things incompletely, who act blindly, but nowhere could I find one truly evil man. They are all good at heart despite their failings!"

May you find what you are looking for!
Marguerite Theophil

The language of logical arguments, of proofs,
is the language of the limited self we know and can manipulate.
But the language of parable and poetry, of storytelling,
moves from the imprisoned language of the provable
into the freed language of what I must, for lack of another word,
continue to call faith.
~ Madeleine L'Engle

Myths that shape us

The Myth Dimension of our cultures guides and perhaps shapes our lives in more ways than we can imagine, speaking to us very powerfully through images, symbols and story-telling, even as it colors not only individual patterns of life, but social, national, even trans-national patterns, attitudes and approaches.

As I work with a group of young women, we talk of different ancient myths that ‘holds’ attitudes in place, and I recount a myth from the Tamil people of South India, from where my family comes. The power of the Feminine is acknowledged, but indirectly, because the story is actually offered as one where ‘removal’ of this power brings ‘true womanhood’.

The popular version of the story tells of King Malayadhvaja Pandya and his wife, unsuccessful in spite of offering numerous horse-sacrifices in their aching desire to produce a son and heir. After the ninety-ninth sacrifice, Indra as a powerful deity, realizing that one hundred performances of this ritual entitled the king to stake a claim on Indra’s own throne, cleverly intervened - suggesting that the unfortunate king should perform a different, more effective sacrifice, “that brings forth a son.”

The horror of the childless couple at the outcome can only be imagined when this sacrifice produces not a baby boy, but a three-year old girl. Not only that - she is born with three breasts.

The king, however, advised by a celestial voice to treat the daughter as if she were a son, trains her in all the manly arts as if she were the legitimate male heir to the throne.

The princess grows up to be Minakshi, and if we follow the story as told in the Tamil text Tiruvilaiyatarpuranam, she evolves into the Pandyan Dynasty monarch, just and beneficent, fearless and victorious in battle. But, she is unmarried, and this is not considered ‘proper’. Her mother laments this, but Minakshi puts her off assuring her that there are more important things she has to see to.

Those things she has to ‘see to’ are mostly to do with battle and conquest and victory, and the warrior princess goes on successfully with this till one day, in a particularly fierce battle between her forces and those commanded by Nandi, (the deity Shiva’s bull ‘vehicle’ and ally), Shiva himself appears in response to the defeated Nandi’s call for help.

Now is the significant moment where a prophecy made at Minakshi’s birth is fulfilled: “When this woman, whose form is golden, meets her lord, one of her breasts will disappear.”

According to Venkatachami Nattar, the commentator of the text, the disappearance of the third breast means a change from a male to a female for Minakshi. Some interpreters equate the third breast with the penis; not two-breasted, therefore not woman.

The warrior princess, doing ‘men’s work’ is now instantaneously transformed to the ideal of Indian womanhood. From the fierce warrior, disemboweling her victims, smearing her spear with their blood and fat, who is undefeated by powerful armies, she is now turned to the suitably demure young girl: ”She looked downward, toward her feet, with collyriumed eyes that were like kentai fish. And there she stood, shining like lightning, scratching the earth with her toes …”

The image of the third breast can also be seen as a symbol of power, its disappearance causes the woman to become submissive – power-less in the face of (supreme) maleness.

It is not the diminishing of her ‘maleness’ that is objectionable, but the depiction of what her ‘femaleness’ now requires; not a transformation of her powers, but a giving up of them – her husband now holds all of that.

In the Tamil tradition, a woman, from the moment she reaches puberty, is considered to be filled with a force/power, sometimes referred to as ananku. This power is often thought to be concentrated in her breasts, and is especially potent during menstruation, or when she has just given birth, and when she is made a widow.

If controlled, this force can produce ‘auspicious’ results; if not it is extremely dangerous. Control is often effected through marriage, and this makes the unmarried woman, as also the widow, unpredictably powerful. (I can’t help imagining how this image could have been used to empower women instead!!) Little wonder then, that these two states – because of the fear they generate – were made to embody the negative position they do even today.

After years of working mainly with archetypal patterns of myths, I find that it becomes increasingly necessary to study the myths of our lives in their historical and socio-cultural context and implications. There are certainly universal, archetypal motifs at work, but it is the details of the culture-specific that contain insights, for women in particular, to work on the layered meanings that myth enfolds, and so to peel off years of biased attitudes and sanctions for inequality that they seem to confer.

After all, it is as Helen Luke once wrote - and as I keep reminding myself about my life and my work - “Only the images by which we live can bring transformation.”


May you work to re-context the images of myths in your life.
Marguerite Theophil

We inherit narrative from our relatives, from our culture,
from the circumstances of our lives and our dreams,
and, as memory arises, we invent narrative
in order to make sense of ourselves and to communicate with others.
~Tony Gee